Adequate
by pirateoftherings
Summary: Adequate: adj: Sufficient to satisfy a requirement or meet a need. Reasonably sufficient. About average. Enough..........Norribeth, suggested Willabeth
1. Prologue: I Thee Wed

**A/N**: The plot bunnies hath commanded me to write Norribeth, so Norribeth I shall write.

**Disclaimer**: --_insert corny joke about copyrights and my low-paying job here_-- The Mouse owns all. The characters are not mine; I'm just playing with them. I'll give them back when I'm done...maybe.

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Elizabeth stared despondently at her reflection as the maids applied the finishing touches to her outfit. She knew she should have been happy. Today was a day that every girl planned and dreamed about for years, but very few saw go as smoothly and perfectly as hers. The weather was perfect. The skies were blue and without a cloud in sight, the sun was shining brightly, the temperature was pleasant, and for once the humidity was not overbearing. Her dress-- oh, she could go on and on about her dress. The very finest light-gold silk had been purchased and then transformed into the single most gorgeous dress she'd ever seen. Almost every last inch of the skirts was embroidered with a delicate floral pattern, mirrored perfectly by the crown of golden flowers and pearls resting lightly on her head. A simple white veil flowed down her back, contrasting sharply with the detailed design of the dress. The hems were accented by more pearls, a crisp lace trim, and gold thread. The focus of the dress, however, was the bodice, which bore an intricate pattern of seed pearls and even more intricate embroidery to complete the floral pattern of the skirts. It was the perfect dress. It was the perfect day. It was the perfect wedding. 

Yet Elizabeth was not happy. Yes, this was the wedding that she'd been dreaming of since she was a little girl -her father had spared no expense in ensuring that-, but something was still missing. For as long as she had been conscious of the fact that a wedding did typically include a groom, she'd imagined that groom as being William Turner. It had at first started as a girlish crush, more of a fantasy than anything else. She'd merely found it entertaining to ponder that possibility, especially since she knew it could not and would not ever happen. But as Will had matured into a handsome young man -and she herself developed into a graceful young woman-, it had become less and less of a childish fancy and more and more of a deep, ardent desire to have none other. She'd even started to contemplate it so much that she'd all but convinced herself that it _would_ happen, especially after the events surrounding Captain Jack Sparrow and the Isla de Muerta. But the groom today was not to be William Turner. It was James Norrington.

It wasn't that she didn't love James. Indeed, she'd known him for eight years now and always held great respect for him. He'd always been a sort of older brother to her, and therein lay the problem. She did love James, in her own way. But it was the type of affection that one felt for a sibling or perhaps a dear friend, not for one's husband. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, however, the latter was the role that James would be playing for the rest of her life. Naturally, it was, as Estrella put it, "a smart match." A commodore of His Majesty's Royal Navy -not to mention one of Port Royal's finest gentlemen- and the governor's daughter. They would be the perfect example of the perfect couple. He, the strong protector who provided for his family, and she, the pampered wife who did nothing but bear children and spend her days at home embroidering and sipping tea with the other well-to-do ladies. But she was too stubborn to complain. She herself had agreed to this marriage, and she refused to give the gossip-prone women of Port Royal yet another reason to shake their heads when they thought she wasn't looking. She already knew that they thought her to be "too independent" and a "wild spirit," and she would not willingly lengthen her list of alleged transgressions. She would make this marriage work. She would love James, even if it killed her.

So caught up in her thoughts was she that Elizabeth hardly even noticed as Estrella gently informed her that they were finished and led her from the room. It was not until they stood outside the chapel's heavy wooden doors that she even realized that this was really it.

"You look stunning, Elizabeth," her father murmured, kissing her briefly on the cheek. "Your mother would be so very proud of you."

Elizabeth looked up at him through misty eyes. Though she'd obviously realized that she would no longer be living with him after this, the fact that it would never again be just the two of them had only now begun to truly sink in. "I love you, father," she whispered hesitantly.

"And I you, my dear." Governor Swann opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off by the music starting to play. Clearing this throat abruptly, he extended his arm ceremoniously. "Shall we, then?"

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James resisted the urge to fidget with the decorated hem of his sleeve as he stood before the altar. This was finally it. No more planning, no more worrying. He was actually getting married. And he was terrified. Terrified that some last-minute detail might go awry, terrified that she might back out at the last moment, and most of all, terrified that he simply would not be enough.

He would have been a fool to not notice how she looked at William Turner, how her eyes momentarily lit up whenever his name was spoken. Even after her repeated assurances to the contrary, a small voice still reminded James that this wedding, the happiest moment of his life, was merely a condition of his saving the aforementioned young man. Elizabeth was truly in love with Mr. Turner; how could he even begin to compete with that?

After what seemed like an eternity, and yet all too soon, the music began as the heavy wooden doors of the chapel swung open. With one glance, all of James's reservations disappeared. She was breathtaking. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she was escorted slowly down the aisle by her father. Her face bore the slightest of smiles, and her eyes shimmered. The gown perfectly accentuated all of the right areas while still leaving much to the imagination. She was a vision. She was _his_ vision. And he'd never been happier.

As Elizabeth finally reached the altar, the priest cleared his throat and began. "_Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God…_"

James stared down at his bride, still marveling at how utterly striking she was. In an attempt to keep his mind off of just what their wedding night would entail, he fixed his gaze upon her face. Her full lips, her warm, honey-brown eyes…why was she staring at the floor? He would have ordinarily dismissed it as shyness, but Elizabeth had proven herself to be anything but the usual blushing bride. She'd never failed to meet his gaze steadily, almost as if challenging him. Why, then, would she not look at him now?

"_Wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?_"

"I will," he replied without hesitation.

"_Wilt thou have this Man to be thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"_

A shaky breath, and then a quiet, "I will."

For the first time, their eyes met, and James found his breath again taken away, though for a completely different reason. Her eyes were not merely shimmering, but threatening to spill over with tears. Though she was doing a wonderful job of hiding it, her lower lip was quivering slightly as she struggled to maintain her strained smile. These were no tears of joy, he realized. They were tears of regret.

Was he really so terrible? Certainly he knew he had not been her first choice, but was the thought of marrying him really that daunting? Surely she understood, if nothing else, the necessity of this marriage, not to mention his infinite and undying love for her?

"_Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?_"

"I do," Governor Swann replied, stepping forward slightly.

"_Hast thou the ring?"_

James accepted the ring from his best man and delicately slid it onto Elizabeth's waiting finger. "With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow." _And with all my soul, I will seek to please you_. "In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

"_Forasmuch as James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. _

"GOD the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favour look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen. You may now kiss the bride."

Hesitantly, the new couple leaned toward each other. Their lips met for the briefest moment, more a brush than a kiss, before both pulled back once more. _I will make you happy_, he vowed silently, looking deeply into her eyes._ If I have to sail to the ends of the earth and back again, I will see you truly smile. Even if it kills me, this will be the happiest thing that has ever happened to you…I swear it._

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The reception that followed was long but rather uneventful. Pleasantries were exchanged, guests were thanked, and other various social obligations were fulfilled. Neither James nor Elizabeth spoke much, but both put on a show of happiness, festivity, and general contentment for the benefit of those present. Before long, it was time for James and his bride to depart for their new home.

As the carriage pulled to a stop before the modestly-sized house, James stepped out first and helped his new wife down. Now that the moment was actually here, he somewhat regretted not having a larger home to present her with, but he'd always preferred simple elegance to ostentatious grandiosity and had only recently given up his quarters in the garrison for the quaint, but tasteful, house. As per tradition, he carried Elizabeth across the threshold while his manservant Steven silently held the door open. "Welcome home, Mrs. Norrington," he whispered, gently setting her back down.

Elizabeth didn't respond, but rather gazed wordlessly around the room with a faint smile, taking in the few details.

Unsure of what to make of her silence, James cleared his throat. "I…apologize if it still seems somewhat…bare," he said hesitantly. "I only recently moved in myself and haven't had much time for attention to the…finer aspects of décor. I realize it's not quite as capacious as the governor's mansion, but I hope that it will at least be adequate. You are free to spend as much as you like redecorating-"

He was cut off by Elizabeth's hand on his forearm. "James," she said softly. "Don't worry; it is perfectly adequate. And decorating was never exactly my strong point." She laughed quietly, though the smile never quite reached her eyes. "But for now, I am quite thoroughly exhausted from the day's events. If it is alright with you, might we retire for the evening?"

"Of course," James replied, extending his arm toward her. "This way, milady."

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Elizabeth sat propped up against the headboard with a pillow, reading while she waited for James to come back into the room. Despite the fascinating plotline of the story she was currently on, her mind kept wandering to other things. She couldn't help but wonder exactly what would transpire that night. It wasn't that she was naïve (much to her father's chagrin). She'd spent far too much time around the maids when they thought she wasn't listening to not know what one's wedding night typically entailed. But knowledge and experience were two completely different things, and while she had plenty of the former, she had absolutely none of the latter. What if she did something wrong?

She looked up in surprise as the bedroom door swung open and James came in. He'd changed out of his dress uniform, though instead of one of the long nightshirts that she'd heard most men preferred, he simply wore an older shirt and loose-fitting pants. He didn't speak as he moved over to the dresser and placed his wig on a stand, revealing his shorter, light brown hair underneath. It made him look much younger, Elizabeth decided, watching his every movement. Though she realized that his station required it, this version of James was decidedly easier on the eyes…

Her thoughts were interrupted as James finally came over and got into bed next to her. She put away her book and glanced hesitantly over at him, but he still said nothing. They both sat in silence for a moment, neither daring to be the first to speak. Finally, James reached over and snuffed out the candle, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate the room.

"Shall we, Mrs. Norrington?"

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**A/N**: To be perfectly honest, the bunnies haven't told me where I'm going with this yet. Or rather, I know where I'm _going_ with it, but I'm not one-hundred percent positive exactly what's going to happen along the way. I do have quite a few ideas for it, but if anyone has a certain scene/moment/situation they'd like to see, feel free to mention it. I can't guarantee getting everything in (as I said, I have a certain ending in mind, so they do have to work with the story), but I have a bit more freedom to move things around with this one than my usual stories. Or even if you have no ideas, a review would still make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, so feel free to click that little button at the bottom lefthand side of your screen. You know you want to... 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Okay, I really did have good intentions of getting this chapter up for the weekend, but...school had other ideas. So...a thousand apologies. I'd promise that it won't happen again, but it probably will. Stupid real life...Anyway, thanks so very much for the reviews! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy and inspired to write. Keep 'em coming! Requests are still open (within reason).

**Disclaimer**: You know the drill. Not mine. We all worship the Mouse. Etc, etc, etc.

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James Norrington had always been a man of action. Whenever he was on shore leave, he was itching to get back to sea, and whenever he was on patrol, he was dreading the return to land. The sea was as much a part of his life as eating or sleeping. As he made his way through the streets of Port Royal, however, he couldn't get home soon enough. Funny how two little words like "I do" could so drastically change a man's life. 

The patrol had been unscheduled, and was only performed in response to several reports of trouble in nearby waters and rumoured sightings of the _Black Pearl_. James had only been married for a week and had still technically been on leave, but as the only commanding officer present at the time, he'd been obliged to lead the journey. The "trouble" had turned out to be nothing but a petty disagreement between two fishing companies, and the sightings had been proven to be merely exaggerated tales, but nonetheless two weeks felt entirely too long to be away from his wife.

He finally reached their modest house and let himself in quietly, not wanting to trouble Steven. As he turned around, however, he found the elderly servant already standing there. "You know, it scares me sometimes how efficient you are," James muttered, relinquishing his hat and coat. "I didn't think you would be expecting me."

"Of course I wasn't," Steven replied crisply as he took care of the items. "But thirty years of serving under first your father and then you has taught me to be prepared for far worse than an unexpected arrival."

"Indeed," James shot back dryly. "Where is-"

"Mrs. Norrington was in the parlor, last I checked."

"Thank you."

James silently made his way down the hall, intending to sneak up behind Elizabeth, but stopped short in the doorway to take in the unusual sight. There, standing on a ladder in front of the window, was Elizabeth. She seemed to be struggling with some rather uncooperative drapes, but it was what she was wearing, not what she was doing, that caught his attention. By means unbeknownst to him, she had managed to procure a pair of rather form-fitting trousers (which looked suspiciously like the ones she had worn en route to Isla de Muerta) and a worn-out shirt, and was currently wearing both to work in.

He stood there for several minutes with his mouth half-open, unsure of what to say. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I see you decided to take me up on my offer."

Elizabeth gasped in surprise and attempted to turn around, causing the ladder to wobble underneath her. James only just got there in time to catch her as she lost her footing and fell from her precarious perch. "James!"

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern, still holding her in his arms.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied breathlessly. "Though I'd much rather be on my own two feet at the moment."

James reluctantly complied, setting her down and straightening his wig. "What on earth possessed you to climb up onto that ladder?"

"What on earth possessed you to sneak up behind me?" she countered.

"I asked first."

Elizabeth huffed stubbornly and began smoothing out her shirt. "I was hanging the drapes," she finally said. "I'm obviously not quite as tall as the window, and so I used a ladder."

"And dare I even ask about your choice of apparel?"

Elizabeth merely shrugged. "I couldn't very well climb up a ladder in a dress," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I would have inevitably fallen."

"Somewhat like you did just now?"

"Only because you snuck up on me!"

James resisted the urge to rub away the dull ache that was forming behind his eyes. "Why couldn't Geoffrey hang the drapes?"

"He's busy preparing supper."

"And Steven?"

"As much as I'd love to see him attempt it, I'm rather fond of the old man and would rather not see him injured," Elizabeth retorted. "Besides, it needed a woman's touch, and before you ask, Estrella is at the market."

Their gazes remained stubbornly locked for several silent minutes before James finally sighed and looked away. "Very well, the point is conceded," he muttered, passing a weary hand over his eyes. "Though I do wish that next time you'd wait for me to come home before you start risking your life."

"It shall be done, O Valiant Protector!" she replied, placing a hand on her forehead in mock-distress.

Not wishing to start another argument, James merely nodded. "I am going upstairs to change out of this uniform," he announced. "We shall continue this discussion over supper, but until then, I'm afraid I must take your leave, milady." Bowing and kissing her hand, he turned and strode out of the room.

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"So I take it your trip went well?" Elizabeth asked, breaking the silence as the two ate.

"It did indeed," James replied with a short nod. "And you? Did anything of earth-shattering proportions transpire in my absence?"

Elizabeth pretended to consider for a moment. "Miss Williamson is now engaged to a rather well-to-do gentleman from England, and her mother cannot begin express how proud she is-- though she does seem to manage every time I see her. The Jacksons are moving up to the American colonies to seek their fortune in tobacco farming. Oh, and Miss Lydia Roderick from down the lane would like to know if you could perhaps arrange a meeting between herself and Lieutenant Gillette."

If not for his military training, James very likely would have spit out his drink then and there. "Gillette?" he repeated incredulously.

"Yes, Gillette. Apparently he is, as she put it, 'quite a catch.'"

"Indeed?" he asked dryly, not quite sure what to make of the news. "That's rather…interesting."

"Yes."

They fell back into silence, the only sound to be heard the occasional scraping of utensils against plates. "…I must admit, I expected your trip to last longer, James," Elizabeth finally commented without looking up from her meal. "Don't these conflicts usually take quite some time to resolve?"

"They can," he agreed. "But fortunately, this one turned out to be a mere misunderstanding that was quickly sorted out. We were only in the area for about two days, and that was only as an extra precaution."

"Ah, then I presume that the reports of the _Black Pearl_ were false as well?" she asked mildly. "Or did you encounter her?"

James suppressed a sigh and shook his head. "No, we did not," he replied guardedly. The question had been posed innocently enough, but one look at Elizabeth's eyes told James the motivation behind her words. "I assure you, Mr. Turner and Mr. Sparrow remain quite safe."

"James, that's not what I-"

"Elizabeth," he said quietly, cutting her off. "If this marriage is going to work, we must learn to be honest with each other."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Elizabeth said, forcing a small laugh. "I was merely inquiring-"

"Please don't lie to me, Elizabeth."

"James-"

"You and I both know what you meant."

"James!"

"I do not delude myself into thinking that-"

"Damn it, James, let me speak!"

James looked up in surprise, taken aback by his wife's sudden outburst.

"Yes, I was concerned for the well-being of Mr. Turner," Elizabeth began shakily. "As I well should be; I'm perfectly aware of the fate that awaits all pirates. But don't you _dare_ presume that it goes any further than that. We're married now, James. We had the wedding, we exchanged the rings, we said the bloody vows. And one way or another, this is going to work. Good night."

"Elizabeth-"

"Good _night_, James," she repeated, this time more forcefully. Without another word, she stood up and hurried out of the room.

Sighing wearily, James finally gave in to the pounding headache he was getting and rested his head in his hands. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there staring at the wall when a rough hand on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts.

"If I may ask, is everything alright, sir?" Steven asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Steven, everything is just wonderful," he muttered sarcastically, finally raising his head. "Have you seen Elizabeth?"

"Last I saw her, she was headed for your bedroom. She seemed terribly distressed about something. Should I go fetch her?"

James shook his head resignedly. "No, that won't be necessary."

Steven nodded and began to leave, but James placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Oh, and Steven, you may want to begin preparing the guest bedroom…I suspect I may be in need of it tonight."

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**A/N**: Review...you know you want to 


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